#haunted forever more by the best tee up and absolute miss

[honeybeejohn]

the fact that we’re still out here talking (suffering) about bbc sherlock and Them in the year 2024 SEVEN YEARS after the last and final episode like.. they won. we’re down bad and they won those bastards they fucking.. won! those fucks!!

[stylesunchained]

Third Time’s A Charm

“What d’you think of this one?”

Holding an old ratty t-shirt he’s pulled from the bottom of the pile he’d been examining for the past twenty minutes, he looks absolutely triumphant - like he’s just found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow - and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“That’s a good one,” You smile and he wiggles his brows teasingly before turning back towards the vintage jackets rack he’d been eying, walking towards it while he hung his new treasure on his shoulder.

He’s pretty.

He’s so so pretty.

And he’s sunny, too. Like the sun had a son and decided to send him down to earth to live amongst mere mortals like you. His smile lights up the room and sends flames up your heart, that aches with how much you feel for him. He’s the sun, the moon, the stars… he’s everything to you and you don’t even know how to tell him.

You’ve known it for months now and it’s been haunting you from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. The urge to just blurt out those three little words has grown stronger and stronger every day and every time you see him, you feel overwhelmed by it. 

There were so many “almosts�� that you had lost count by now and you feel like you’ve turned into a lovesick puppy dog, begging for attention and hoping your grunts and moans and tricks will convey just how deeply you feel for him. Nothing could quite measure up to it though - no matter how hard or how long you kissed him or how many cups of tea you made him every morning or how many times you told him you were proud of him for everything he’d accomplished, you were always frustrated at end because he didn’t know… he didn’t understand. 

The hardest was when he had you in his sheets though. Legs tangled up and arms around each other as he thrust deep inside of you, lips brushing yours and all you could think was just how much you felt for him. It was maddening and the words fought their way up to your throat every time he looked you in the eye but you swallowed them down every time and you hoped and prayed that the way you moved and the way you kissed him showed him...

“What you got there?” 

Harry’s voice stuns you and you look up from the old Led Zeppelin tee you had found hanging in one of the more expensive items racks, your eyes finding his - they’re green, bright and soft and you feel like he’s staring into your soul. 

“Zeppelin,” you blurt out, handing him the mustard yellow tee. “Thought you might like it.”

Humming, Harry lifts up the garment, eyes attentively examining it as he turns it over and back again. “‘S a good one. Bit rough ‘round the collar but think this one is a great find.”

“Yeah? Did I do good?”

Leaning towards you, lips pressing against yours tightly, your eyes close and arms wrap around his neck. With fingers tingling and heat pooling in your stomach as his tongue licks slowly against yours, you can’t help the sigh against his mouth, a whiny little sound coming up from the back of your throat as the kiss deepens. It’s far from a proper one - he’s kissed you harder and deeper than this countless times before - but it’s just enough to make you weak at the knees.

“Did good,” he laughs, thumb brushing against your cheekbone before he leans in again, giving you a quick peck. “Good girl.”

His eyes lock with yours as he smiles cheekily and sure enough, there it was again, washing over you like waves - that deep-rooted feeling in your heart that makes your whole body warm and achy in the best of ways. 

“I-,” Your lips open and your heart hammers in your chest and you choke on a breath, the courage to say it vanishing just as quickly it had bubbled up inside of you. “I think you should get it.”

His eyebrow arches and he looks at you for what feels like forever, a smile spreading across his lips that makes you uneasy - it’s the same smile he gave you when you told him months ago that yes, you missed him when he was gone and yes, you thought the two of you should give this a real shot. It’s the smile that tells you he knows. That even though you’ve tried so hard to hide it, he just knows.

…

He looks glorious on top of you, all traces of the sunny boy he is gone except for the touch of the actual sun on the bridge of his nose and the redness of his lips. Instead, he looks like a man, all muscle and stubble, lined forehead covered in sweat and hair that curls and sticks to his skin while his cock splits you open as easily as a knife does butter. He’s relentless in his pursuit of your orgasm, expertly working your body along with his - spreads your legs wider so he can fit his hips tighter against your own, reaching deep and deeper inside of you with each slide of his cock.

Your neck, his lips, his hands, your breasts… there’s not an inch of you where he hasn’t left a trace of him and you shiver from head to toe when he presses forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your cunt, making your toes curl and your eyes roll back as a loud moan comes out of your lips in time with his grunt.

Barely pulling out of you once before he drives forward, hips grinding slowly, your voice gets caught in your throat at the overwhelming fullness he gives you - he’s everywhere at once and if there was any other way to get more of him, you would gladly accept it. Your eyes widen when you feel him pull back until only the tip of him is inside of you before hitting home hard, teeth bared and shoulders tightening and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“D’you feel that?” Harry presses, nose bumping yours as your lips brush. “Feel me? How deep I am?”

“I do!” You whine, hands sliding over his sweat-slick back before you tangle your fingers in his hair, knees moving higher against his sides. “I do, I do… oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“‘S it, darling, tha-  fu-fuck,” The curse is drawn out and lost amongst both your moaning when you clench around him, your legs locking tightly around his narrow hips to stop him from pulling away. “Fuckin’ tease, yo- fuckin’ cock tease, aren’t you?”

“Make me c-cum,” Begging, you pull on his damp hair, your eyes meeting his as the two of you move together. “Please? Please, make me cum…”

“Fuck, yeah! Yeah, I’ll-” Harry gulps, nodding eagerly before pressing his lips roughly to yours - there are knocking teeth and noses that bump painfully against the other, but when his tongue slides against yours you melt into a shudder. “Make you cum, c’mon… give me it, w-want it!”

There’s barely any time between the second he slides his free hand between the two of you, thumb pressing to your clit in quick circles while his cock slides in staccato thrusts that fill you up until you explode. You shake violently, arms gripping to him like vice and eyes squeezed shut, ears ringing so loud you can’t even hear your own desperate pleading, a mixture of swears and his name.

“Breathe,” you hear, gravely and deep against your ear, hot breath hitting your neck. “C’mon, darling, come back t’ me now…”

You can barely open your eyes, spent from your orgasm, body shivering with each kiss he presses to your skin. His lips are like an exposed wire, sending electric currents through your whole body from every inch he presses them to and you jump, sensitive to every single one of them.

“Open your eyes,” Harry asks, teeth sinking on your bottom lip, making you cry out. “C’mon, look at me…”

“You didn- didn’t cum.” Gulping down breaths, you cry out when you feel his cock wet from you but still hard against your thigh.

Breathing out a laugh, Harry slides down your body, lips pressing to your jaw, your neck and between your breasts before he lifts up again, pulling himself up until he’s lying on his side, his body glued to yours and eyes locked with your barely open ones.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” He smiles, tattooed hand sliding slowly over your stomach, up and down and following the curve of your breasts. “‘M okay… got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

Your heart swells with emotion and your tongue feels heavy with the words that crawl up your chest. You want to say it, you want to say it so badly you feel like you’re going insane with it.

“I -” Turning over, you press your lips to his tattooed chest, nails digging into his bicep as you look up at his expectant eyes. “I lo-” 

Your eyes fill with tears and you slide closer to him to avoid his knowing gaze, heart hammering in your chest. Words are almost tumbling out of your mouth when he hisses like he’s in pain and you look down to see him cupping his cock.

“S-sorry, love,” Harry mumbles, eyes closed as he cups himself. “Wh- what were you saying?”

“I wanna help,” you rush, shaky hands replacing his around his cock. “I wanna help…”

…

You feel like you’re delirious, the sleepless night catching up with you now that you were finally home, safe from doing and saying things you shouldn’t do. You’re thankful for the silence of your home, broken only by the sound of the kettle heating up water for your tea.

It had been an exhausting week and staying up to celebrate Harry’s new song release had fucked up any chance of sleeping you had but you didn’t care. Watching his face light up with every new reaction he saw online, giggling with every scream and meltdown he saw on his twitter feed was worth the whole day of work on literally no sleep. It put you in a good mood all day long, smiling when he texted you talking about everyone’s reactions.

All that happiness couldn’t curb the relief you felt when you got to leave work and make your way home, the promise of a warm cosy bed and fresh sheets and maybe some take out had been enough to keep you moving through the streets of London. You’re completely engrossed in the menu of your favourite sushi place when your bell rings, startling you out of your near hypnosis.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you open the door.

Standing at your door with three bags of take out and a Gucci coat that could pay both your salary and month’s rent is Harry, looking at you expectantly.

“Bought dinner, didn’t I?”

Standing under the bright lights of your kitchen in socks and unruly hair, he unpacks everything he’d just bought - you can see it’s all steaming hot from the little hisses when he catches his fingers in a particularly steamy part of the containers, lifting his digits up to his lips so he can soothe them against his tongue. He looks like a normal guy - just Harry, as he’d say - and yet you know that not even a full day ago he’d been shaking up the world with his unbridled talent.

As you watch him setting up plates for the both of you, you can’t help the overwhelming joy bubbling up inside of you. He could’ve chosen to be anywhere, with anyone and yet, he’s chosen to be here, with you, with take out and a movie and the possibility of some heavy petting on the couch and you can’t contain the erratic beat of your heart. 

With quick steps you reach him, arms wrapping around his middle and face pressed against his back as you squeeze him as tight as you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid the tears from falling.

“Oi! ‘M busy here!” Harry laughs loudly, giggling when you start pressing kiss after kiss to his back, shoulders and neck. “Haven’t even given you dinner and you already want me to get into your pants?”

“Leave it,” You mumble, pulling on his shirt to make him turn to you. “Leave it, I’m not hungry, I-”

“I’m hungry,” he scoffs and you roll your eyes, standing on your tiptoes, hands grabbing his face to pull him closer, lips covering his in a soft kiss. It quiets him down, green eyes closing as he allows you to lick into his mouth, his arms wrapping around your middle to pull you up and closer to him.

Your house is quiet save from the sounds of your lips locking together and your heart thundering in your chest as you squeeze him tight. There’s a long time while the two of you just kiss, enjoying the closeness but you can’t help the feelings bubbling up. When he finally pulls away with a kiss to your chin, another one to your nose, smiling down at you, you can’t help the stinging tears that well up in your eyes.

“What?” He asks, alarmed, eyes wide and thumb reaching up to catch a stray tear. “‘S going on?”

“Nothing, I just-” You start but the words are stuck and your fingers are shaking. Turning, you press your lips to his palm, hand reaching up to hold his against your cheek. “I just…”

That knowing look, the same one that’s been haunting you is there again, clear as day in the green of his eyes. He waits and you could hear a pin drop if not for your heavy breathing and you can’t look away. Not this time.

“You can say it,” Harry mumbles, the hand that was on your waist reaching for your cheek, using both of them to make you look at him. His voice is soft, unlike the thunderous laugh from before and much more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him and it makes you ache. “Jus’ say it. Wanna hear it.”

You feel everything - his body against yours, the warmth emanating off of him, the smell of his hair and the cologne he’d sprayed that morning before you left his house for work, the taste of his lips and the feeling, most of all you felt your feelings. Big, loud and unapologetic, just like he is and fighting their way off your chest with every intention to be heard this time around...

“I love you.” Closing your eyes, tears running freely down your cheeks now you finally confess. “I love you, I love-”

“You love me,” Harry mumbles and you finally look at him. Nose red as well as his eyes, he looks just as overwhelmed as you and you clutch him closer, fingers digging into his jumper. “You love me. I know. I know.”

Nodding, you lean forward, lips pressing to his - you taste like your tears but it doesn’t stop you from deepening it.  “I do. I love you, I do.”

“Heard you the first time…” He sniffles, laughing when you pinch his waist, nose brushing against his. “Love you too, darling. You know I do.”

[allofbeercom]

Why Halloween Is The Single Most Overrated Day Of The Year

Ah, Halloween—innovative costumes, chilling haunted house-inspired decor, and that crisp, cool weather we look forward to all year. Haaaa, I fucking wish. Idk if it’s the incessant articles about fall that I force my 59 followers friends to read or the pure rage I develop when my attempt at a slutty Poison Ivy costume somehow always ends up looking like Shrek, but what we think of Halloween actually only exists in places like Pinterest or borderline demonic Disney films. And yeah, it might sound like I’ve become a bitter bitch, but that’s only because I’m actually a bitter bitch. 

Anyway, I’m not here to throw all my problems on you—my therapist frowned upon that. There’s a lot that goes into Halloween that never actually happens, and that’s honestly way too much work for an attempt at record-breaking Instagram likes on a night you probably won’t remember anyway. Thankfully, I’m here to let you down easy and tell you what to really expect come your boyfriend’s sister’s grand big’s monster bash, and why I think Halloween is the most overrated holiday (sorry, Satan, but I’m going to hell anyway). But if you’re one of those idiots who lives and breathes Halloween because you hate yourself so much that you have to be someone else to feel good, you can go shave your back now drown in your own bowl of Mini-Twix.

Actual convo we’ll have if you disagree with me:

Fall Weather

EXPECTATION: You’re already planning your pumpkin patch-inspired Instagram complete with that fall sweater from Nordstrom’s annual sale (BACK IN FUCKING JULY) that you’ve been harboring for like, seven years now. Once September hits, you’re about to rip the tags off your new leather boots, so you can eagerly mask your post-summer bloat in the cutest cozy fall attire, because you know what they say: boyfriends come and go, but leggings are forever.

REALITY: Don’t even get me started. Actually, never mind—I’ve already been triggered. I despise our garbage president for many reasons, but mostly because he’s apparently unaware of this thing called Global Warming that’s causing me to freeze my ass off, and then sweat my dick off all in the short amount of time it takes me to get to the bar after work on a Friday. Nothing tastes as good as baggy clothes make us feel, but no amount of likes on a fall OOTD pic is worth the buckets of boob sweat generated by this incessant heat stroke.

Halloween Decorations

EXPECTATION: This will be the year you finally give in and line your mantle with those annoying sticky webs that literally cling to everything you own. You’re so ready to go full Grandma Cromwell and deck the halls with boughs of horror—oh, and HELLO, stupidly over-priced adorbs accent pillows!

REALITY: You know when you take your headphones out of your bag after just putting them in 30 seconds ago and they’re in just as big of a clusterfuck as your life is? After going through the entire bag of web, congrats—you’ve successfully covered about three square feet of wall space in what looks like a heap of unrolled cotton balls. Stick a skull head on your table, and leave the decorating to your parents from now on.

Pumpkin Carving

EXPECTATION: Getting my friends together to do dumb activities no one cares about, like carving pumpkins, as an excuse to get shitfaced on a Wednesday is the one LinkedIn skill I pride myself in being endorsed on. The excitement of chugging pumpkin beer and watching throwbacks like while competing to see who can carve the best pumpkin without anyone asking “Wait, what is that?” is thrilling.

REALITY: Don’t get me wrong: pumpkin carving is the best—besides the part where you actually have to carve the pumpkin. It’s like painting a room: the movies make it look like it’s as exhilarating as sending a hoe-ish text at 2am, but in reality, it’s so much more than that. Three minutes into regretting trying to carve a Cheshire Cat, you’ll make the slightest wrong cut, only to knock a whole row of teeth out and fuck up the entire thing. Not only will you be stuck cleaning pumpkin goo off the table, but your jack-o-lantern will probably look like it just went on a 3-month alcohol bender and woke up with a half-opened eye and four teeth missing. Whatever, that’s why the devil invented alcohol.

Buying Candy

EXPECTATION: You hit up the Halloween aisle for the best and most frowned-upon candy and in the process, you even selflessly think to bag some up for your besties! Side note: when tf did tiny bags of candy become so expensive? Tbh, my friends aren’t that great.

REALITY: It apparently didn’t occur to you that you either live on the 27th floor of a city complex or a tiny dorm room, and that the only children you’ll probably see all day are the ones dressed in fugly ‘90s getup in the Dannon Yogurt commercial. You’ve gotta get rid of the candy somehow, so you decide to take one for the team and experiment with the Wonka Nerds and craft your own witches brew of flavored hangover vodka, but like, it could be worse… Also, you’re welcome for that million-dollar idea.

Making Your Costume

EXPECTATION: The absolute best part of Halloween is crafting up the most original, not-too-slutty-but-pretty-fucking-slutty costume. For once, you got ahead of the game and began the planning process even before October came around. And to top it all off, you found the perfect YouTube makeup tutorial you’re about to watch like, 12 times in order to get the perfect sexy zombie bride face. No really, this is about to be some next-level shit.

REALITY: Spoiler alert: It’s October 30th. You’ve achieved nothing but an overloaded Amazon shopping cart filled with items that are 100% guaranteed to overdraft your checking account. Your party is tomorrow night, so you should probably just try Sears. Lol JK, I’m your friend, remember? You knew this would happen again, so you should really just order the best effing costume you’ve ever worn from our Betches store (yeah it’s a plug, fucking prosecute me) to save yourself time, money, and a year’s worth of embarrassment when you think about showing up in last year’s bumble bee leotard.

The Halloween Party

EXPECTATION: The night has finally arrived. You and your friends are planning on getting inappropriately drunk before arriving to the party—for precautionary purposes, of course. You’ll be sipping on whatever the fuck is in that witches brew concoction, while yelling “OMG that’s so good!” to your friend’s unoriginal Khaleesi/possibly-also-Elsa-from-getup. You managed to get that one Instagram you’re about to fully dissect and edit when you’re alone later on, so yeah, life is good. 

REALITY: You show up only to lay eyes half the party wearing your typical run-of-the-mill fuckboy Halloween staple: A white tee with some sort of dumb fucking saying like “Error 404: Costume Not Found” sharpied on it. Nobody told you that a “horror” theme was actually because of your ears bleeding from hearing “Monster Mash” play on repeat 87 times. Oh, and that witches brew? I’d steer clear unless you’re into the kind of thing that is chugging the leftover middle cup ingredients from King’s Cup. But it’s ok because if all else fails, there’s always some Freeform marathon to binge while also bingeing Snickers and tequila.

Happy haunting, witches.

  from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/why-halloween-is-the-single-most-overrated-day-of-the-year/